ON STRIKE!

The 1917 Walkout at Globe, Arizona

by Daphne Overstreet

THE YEAR 1917 was a time of labor unrest throughout the mining West. The country was at war. Metal was needed to supply the armed forces. Copper prices were up, production was soaring, and Labor wanted a share of the enormous profits which the mining companies were harvesting. Union leaders pointed out that living conditions for the miners were degrading, wages were low and working conditions were often hazardous. The situation played into the hands of IWW organizers, who moved in and attempted to dominate local unions. Before summer in 1917, miners all over the West were out on strike.

All through June Globe’s Arizona Record carried flaming headlines:

Strike at Jerome!….Less than 20% of Butte’s Miners Working….No Prospect for Settling 10-Day Strike at El Tigre….Representatives from Department of Labor Called in to Help Settle Strike against International Smelting in Utah….Americans Leave Cananea Mine….Butte Mine Closes as Men Refuse to Work….Five Thousand Miners in Warren District Called upon to Quit Jobs Today….Leadville Miners May Go on Strike to Demand Higher Wages.1

Globe was a labor stronghold where miners’ organizations had been active and aggressive, and trouble had been brewing there since 1896, when the Western Federation of
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Miss Overstreet, now of Nogales, is a graduate of the University of Arizona and is a specialist in the history of her native state. She is the author of two books and is preparing a third which will deal with the folk remedies of northern Mexico. This essay was researched while she was teaching at the junior college in Globe.

Miners established a local. At that time the fledgling union group informed the superintendent of the Old Dominion Mine that they would escort him out of town if he cut their pay or continued to hire Mexican miners (who worked for lower wages than Europeans). The Old Dominion management, leading from strength and confidant that it could starve the miners out, responded to the threat with a lockout, but somehow the union held on. For the next twenty years Globe was plagued by labor-management squabbles and the town became known as a center for radical labor agitation in Arizona even though the miners were only partially successful in getting the company to meet their demands.2 These seeds of discontent bore fruit in July of 1917.

Most patriotic citizens believed the strikes called by IWW affiliates were a German conspiracy to undermine the war effort. That the miners had reason to complain mattered little to the public, which considered their activities treasonous and even murderous.3 “It is true,” editorialized Charles Hogue of the Record, “that the agitators are guilty of the murder of many brave men at the front in the war due to the temporary stoppage of munitions.”4 As Phelps Dodge historian Robert Glass Cleland sums it up, “The merchants, bankers, professional men, the rank and file of the population dependent for their livelihood upon the prosperity of the mining industry, welcomed the IWW with about as much favor as an earlier generation of settlers had welcomed a band of Geronimo’s Apaches.”

“In isolated, self-sufficient communities, as most Arizona mining camps were at that time,” he continues, “this popular hostility towards the IWW was a dangerous and explosive thing, especially in the early months of the war when the nation was caught up into a great wave of patriotic fervor while strong crosscurrents of intrigue and disloyalty ran beneath the surface.”5

The twin communities of Globe and Miami were “isolated and self sufficient.” Cut off in the early days by high mountains, Globe was linked with the outside world by a branch-line railroad in 1898 but the citizens still continued to think pretty much like frontiersmen. The settlement had sprung up in the valley of Pinal Creek in the seventies. Miami, a “company town” was established seven miles to the northwest in Miami Flats in 1907. Globe was a straggling town, its main thoroughfare (Broad Street) winding along the bottom of the valley. The Old Dominion works constituted a subcommunity at the northern edge of the village. It controlled several subsidiary mines in the neighborhood, as did the Inspiration and the Miami Copper Companies, and sites in the vicinity were occupied by lesser enterprises with names like Arizona Commercial, Iron Cap, Superior and Boston, Black Warrior, Gibson, and Van Dyke.

The IWW agitators planned to close down these all these mines and paralyze the entire district unless their demands were met. The AFL members did not participate actively but their leaders instructed them not to cross the picket lines. In effect the strike would include all miners in the area. The mine managers braced themselves and worst was not long in coming. On Saturday, June 0, the Metal Mine Workers Union No. 800 presented its demands – the same demands issued by the miners at Butte and Bisbee: $6 a shift for underground work and $5.50 for surface; safety measures such as doubling up on piston and Leyner machines; no blasting during shifts; abolition of the sliding scale and rustling-card systems; no discrimination against union members; and representation on the controlling board of the company hospital.6

The managers considered these demands unreasonable and refused to meet them.

Mayor George D. Barclay sensed imminent disaster and hurriedly issued a proclamation warning that “riotous or tumultuous conduct from anyone will not be tolerated. I have no feeling in this matter, but am determined that the laws of the city of Globe shall be sustained.”7 Law and order as envisioned by Mayor Barclay and by Sheriff Tom Armer of Gila County was gone for the time being. The strike officially began on July 2.

Early that morning approximately 1000 strikers congregated in the street at the entrance to the Old Dominion, determined to shut the mine down. “Scores of employees on their way to work were forcibly stopped, “said the Record (which was strongly pro-management), “and several were mauled while the remainder were prevented from assuming their duties by the intimidatory measures exercised by the strikers.” Editor Hogue reported further:

Mine officials and foremen on their way to the plant were stoned. The wives of two officials who made a visit to their husbands were threatened and forced to listen to obscene remarks. The windshield of the car they were driving was broken by a huge boulder and the radiator was dented by another large rock. Local authorities appeared unable to cope with the situation.8

A number of armed deputies and several pumpmen managed to get through the line, though Sheriff Armer’s car was turned back by the pickets. With the exception of the small force of men who managed to get to the underground pumps at the Old Dominion, all workmen were excluded and all work was stopped. Miami Copper Company and the Inspiration Mine and Smelter Company were closed down also. Copper production in the district was at a standstill.

The strikers realized, or were reminded, late in the afternoon that the managers, foreseeing the trouble, might have sent for strikebreakers, and when the train arrived that evening, 300 angry members of the Metal Mine Workers Union in Miami stopped it. Half the crowd swarmed in front of the engine, preventing further progress, while a committee of ten searched the coaches for strangers who could not explain their presence. Apparently no suspicious characters were on the train and no passenger was molested.

By now the Fourth of July was only one day away, a fact which posed a problem for strikers and managers alike. A celebration to end all celebrations had been planned, a dazzling spectacular billed as the Great Pageant of Nations and guaranteed to outdo any former display of patriotism. Most of the citizens were loyal to the companies and the outrageous acts of the “foreigners,’ as the group of transient unnaturalilzed Europeans – mostly Austrians and Irish – were called by the townspeople, made them eager to express their patriotic fervor. They knew that the strikers wanted to stop the celebration sand they were determined not to be stopped.

That the troublemakers were called foreigners was immensely ironic, for most of the Europeans who came to work in the mines, bringing their families with them, were either not involved or were loyal to their employers. They constituted a large percentage of the work force and included a cosmopolitan conglomeration of Orientals, Mexicans, Cornish “Cousin Jacks,” Serbs, Yugoslavs, French, Russians and Italians.9 Just west of the Old Dominion was a residential district, referred to by Globeites as League of Nations Canyon, where many of them were housed, but this was no the center of agitation. The agitators were transient troublemakers and American labor leaders.10

The solid and settled foreigners were, in fact, deeply involved in the Fourth of July preparations, as the Globe papers reported. “The local French citizens’ float will feature the Goddess of Liberty holding aloft her large torch….The Italians and Serbians will jointly sponsor a float carrying Domingo Scotti’s band….The Russians have sent to Los Angeles for a flag of their country, but if it does not arrive on time, the ladies will make one themselves to carry in the parade….The Mexicans have planned a joyous street fiesta and have invited the state band from Sonora to play.” And so on, line after line describing the floats that would represent the Chinese, Japanese and English colonies.11

The whole community was immersed in the patriotic enterprise. There were entries from the Golden Rule Store, the Elks’ Theatre, the copper companies of the district, the fraternal organizations. “The electricians have built a float which will be attractive by day and majestic by night, a twinkling representation of a submarine complete with wireless and periscope.” A bevy of fluttering ladies, trimmed in red, white, and blue and nestled among yellow paper chrysanthemums, would represent the local women’s clubs. The Gila County cowboys were unable to prepare a float on account of the nature of their work, but the townspeople looked forward to their presence and participation – so much so, in fact, that Anna Rey Pringle offered every cowboy in from the range a bunk, a bath and a place to tie a horse.12

After the parade a variety of activities would round out the day: baseball games, tug-o-wars, foot races, burro races, sack races, cowboy sports in the creek bed, and dancing at the Elks Hall – and for the children a sticky ice cream dream with great swells of root beer, sarsaparilla and lemonade.13

In spite of the strike and the sullen groups of strikers blocking the entrance to the Old Dominion, everything went as planned up to the very morning of the Fourth. Before nine o’clock throngs of people had begun to congregate in the downtown area. Dozens settled on the twenty-six steps leading up to the courthouse while hundreds more packed the sidewalks and stood knotted in tight groups around the booths where watermelon wedges, popcorn cakes and miniature American flags were for sale. Behind the courthouse and in front of the jail, however, was another tangle of men who were not in a mood for celebration.

Six-year-old William “Wiggie” Penrose and his Cornish miner father were standing where they could see this group. They had come downtown to watch the show and were near the corner of the courthouse where they could watch front and back. Sheriff Armer was deputizing men right there on the sidewalk. The newly appointed lawmen were wearing white ribbons bearing the word DEPUTY pinned to their lapels. Each man was given a rifle.

“We’re going home,” the elder Penrose said. “There’s going to be trouble here and shootin’ today, and I don’t want us to be any part of it.” Like most of the Cousin Jacks, Penrose was loyal to the company and had refuse to strike.14 So he and his son went home.

Sheriff Armer feared there would be trouble too. After stationing his deputies along Broad Street minutes before the parade was scheduled to begin, he contacted Mayor Barclay and asked him to call it off.

“The parade can’t go on. There’ll be trouble, and more than we can handle. The miners are shouting threats at the marching units lining up at the train station. Somebody might get hurt.”

Barclay was unhappy at the thought of canceling the celebration. It represented many hours of work and thousands of dollars and it would all go for nothing at one word from him. The “foreigners” were robbing the town of its greatest opportunity for a display of patriotic feeling, and that stung him. Nevertheless the spectre of bloodshed on Broad Street was enough to quell his indignation and he scribbled a proclamation calling off the parade on account of “the situation.” Disperse the Boy Scouts! Send away the Elks, the Eagles and the Moose! Pack up the booths! Get the floats off the street!

It was done. But the Gila County citizens, already angered by the walkout two days before, were determined to have at least an abbreviated version of the Fourth of July celebration. “The floats and decorated autos were driven as far as the bridge (four blocks) several times,” the Record reported, “so they could be observed…but the Serbians demonstrated their loyalty by marching all the way to Miami in spite of the danger.”15

Other citizens expressed their resentment in a different way. Fourteen of the newly created deputies, armed with shotguns, mounted a truck and sped off with siren wailing towards the Old Dominion, the focus of most of the trouble. They crashed through the picket line, intending to protect the property. The strikers, of course, were enraged by this invasion of company “gunmen” and they were further provoked when another truck, driven by Sheriff Armer (in company with County Attorney Hugh Foster) barreled across the line a few minutes later with messages and instructions for the first load of deputies. Word of the invasion ripped through Globe’s saloon district, where strikers were spending their time in various places of amusement, and men began spilling through the doorways. A solid wall of human bodies blocked the roadway leading to the Old Dominion by the time Armer and Foster were ready to return. There was no way they could move.

“We are on official business,” the sheriff shouted to the crowd. “It is against the law to block us.”

The miners, armed only with wooden clubs and stones, cursed the lawmen and threatened violence if they tried to force their way through the picket line.

Then George D. Smith, head of the Mine, Mill and Smelter workers, pushed his way to the immobilized truck and shouted at the sheriff, “For God’s sake, how many deputies do you want up there? Don’t you see the effect you are having on this crowd? This is just what they did in Ajo: deputized everybody.”16

The men hammered on the truck and shouted more abuse. The situation became so explosive that Armer and Foster were ready to shoot their way out. Then Smith stepped forward again and offered to make a deal:

“From now on, when you or your gunmen have business at the mine, you can leave your truck at the picket line and walk the rest of the way.” The next lawman who tried to run the line, he threatened, would be shot down as he crossed it.17

Armer knew he was trapped. The threats cut him to the quick, but he had to stay cool. He accepted Smith’s terms. The mob, satisfied that the men had been properly humiliated, parted to let the truck pass.

The situation continued to fester through the morning, but at noon some new and encouraging events occurred. News of the troubles in Arizona had reached Washington and President Woodrow Wilson invited former governor George Hunt to act as a mediator and conciliator. Officials at Bisbee had asked Governor Thomas Campbell to call for federal troops and telegrams had gone off to Secretary of War Newton C. Baker. Brigadier General Henry A. Greene, in charge of the Arizona District, sent Major Charles M. Bundel of the Tenth Field Artillery from Douglas to Globe to investigate and report. The results appeared when Governor Campbell himself got off the train at noon, responding to a plea for aid from the mine managers and civic authorities.18

He planned to address the citizens from the courthouse steps. A few minutes before he appeared, 300 members of the local home guard, armed with bayonets, cleared downtown Broad Street by driving the unruly strikers up onto the sidewalks. Campbell addressed them directly, promising that he would disperse the vigilantes if the miners would go about their business and not block traffic.

“And another thing,” he added, pointing to several grey trucks lined up on Broad Street, “the citizens are determined to send supplies to the men inside the mine.”

“It can’t be done!” the union men roared back with one voice.19 George Smith ran up the steps, pleaded with the crowd to be quiet, and turned to the governor. He said the strikers would let a supply truck through if Campbell would drive it himself, and if he would bring back the fourteen deputies who had passed through the picket line earlier. To this the governor agreed, promising to return with the provisions if he couldn’t deliver the deputies.20 And there the meeting ended.

This agreement gave the situation a whole new dimension. It was now two days since 2000 miners had responded to the strike order. Their pickets had sealed off the Old Dominion but Bob Riell, the paymaster, and about sixty others had filtered through the line. Somebody had to maintain steam in the boilers and man the pumps to keep the mine from flooding. There was a hospital, occupied by patients, on the property. The strikers had turned back the milk truck, the ice truck and the company doctors who tried to visit their charges. Enough supplies were on hand to last for two days, but when July 4 dawned, these had run out.

Bob Riell and the company men were exhausted from working around the clock and pumping out four million gallons of water a day. Bob went up on top of the three-story sample tower with a pair of field glasses to watch the pickets and could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw two supply trucks drive through the line of guards. Governor Campbell was at the wheel of the first one, with Superior Court Judge Walter Shute by his side. The second was driven by Army Major Charles M. Bundel, fresh from Douglas. When the miners dug into his truck and found cots and bedding, they pushed it into a utility pole a block down the street and ordered the major back to town.21

Bundel jumped out onto the running board screaming, “You can’t do this to the army! You’ll be sorry!”22 At 1:30 that afternoon he walked into the telegraph office half a block south of the courthouse and reported to General Greene that the miners were “in complete control” and that troops were needed.23

Meanwhile Campbell and Shute convinced the Old Dominion mine officials that the armed guards should be sent back to the city. The fourteen “gunmen,” with the governor and the judge, climbed into the truck, now empty of supplies, and headed back. Just as the vehicle crossed the picket line, however, it sputtered and broke down. The riders had to get out and walk while cursing, rock-throwing miners accompanied them to town.24

All that afternoon Campbell met with officials from the union and the copper companies and struggled to bring them to terms. Both sides were bitter – too bitter to come to an agreement. Finally the Metal Mine Workers informed him that they would not return to work until all their conditions were met and he had to admit that the situation was worse than he expected.

“The end is not in sight,” he announced when the meeting broke up, “and from what I saw here today and from what the industrial workers told me, it will require federal intervention before peace and harmony is restored out of the present chaos.”25

With that the worst Fourth of July in Globe’s history came to an end and the night passed without further incident. Then at 9:20 on the morning of the fifth four cavalry troops and one machine-gun company arrived by special train from Douglas – 240 men in all. As they marched through town, the Record noted, “they were cheered by throngs of relieved citizens. Hundreds of autos fell in behind the troops and followed them to the Old Dominion grounds. About 1,000 strikers fell back as the troops came in.” Colonel White announced that the men would spend the night right there. Reportedly he added, “Well, boys, you’ve been on the job for three days and nights. You must be tired. We’ll take over now.”26

Within a few minutes the narrow stretch of highway in front of the mine was deserted. The troops marched to the top of the black slag dump, pitched their tents, and were in charge from then on.

Horses arrived a week later and so did the regimental band.27 The mere presence of the military changed the whole complexion of the strike situation. With some 900 uniformed men on the ground, disturbances almost ceased. At the beginning of the strike miners drifted together on street corners, in downtown saloons, or in the Old Dominion park. Now they felt uneasy and threatened and their belligerence decreased.

There was still trouble and suffering, however. The payroll from the mines had amounted to $25,000 a day.28 As the strike dragged on, many families were going hungry and the local merchants were unable to collect their bills. Local grocers extended credit to their customers as long as they dared, but more and more men were leaving as the prospect of returning to work grew dimmer.29 Carl Bishop, who worked at the Old Dominion’s company store, recalled that the management “gave credit even to the miners on strike. But every day we sent a man to check the morning and evening train to make sure someone who owed a lot of money wasn’t leaving town.”30

Meanwhile the citizens of Globe who considered themselves patriotic and pro-Company started fighting back. They knew that Globe was the biggest copper producer in the state, turning out nearly 20,000,000 pounds a month, nearly all of it going to the war effort. Foreman Jack Warren’s house had been burned down and the strikers were said to have threatened to burn out everybody loyal to the mine owners. Wives had been intimidated and had been given asylum as the Dominion Hotel downtown, where they were guarded by a group of deputized cowboys called by the miners “the Damn Ten-Gallon Hat Men.” The townspeople, in the light of the circumstances, firmly believed that the strike was treasonable and that the strikers were “a flagless mob of foreign delinquents capable only of trouble and spending their days in uproar and idleness.”31

They were encouraged in their beliefs by Walter Douglas of Bisbee, in charge of Phelps Dodge interests in Arizona, who arrived in his private car on the eleventh and held a day-long conference with the governor. Before he left he made a speech, reported in the Record:

There will be no compromise because you cannot compromise with a rattlesnake. That goes for both the International Union and the I. W. W.’s…It is up to the individual communities to drive these agitators out as has been done in other communities.32

The Globe city council acted first. In a bold move it outlawed public meetings “Due to the strike, violence and destruction of property by the IWW.” Under the new ordinance it was forbidden to “deliver a public speech…without a permit from the city marshal” or to sing, beat drums, play musical instruments or make unusual noise in the streets.33 Lawbreakers were subject to sentences of ten to ninety days in jail and fines of up to $30.

The Loyalty League went into action next. The first meeting was held on July 6 with 500 zealots present. Editor Hogue of the Record approved. “The main object of the Loyalty League is to eliminate the IWW,” he declared, “to put an end to their activities and suppress their future meetings.” His conclusion was, “Exterminate the IWW!”34

At the League’s July 18th meeting it was resolved that League merchants would put identifying cards in their store windows, that members would make and wear buttons, and that in the course of future meetings each one would turn in the names of IWW agitators and sympathizers who had come to his attention.35

Meanwhile Sheriff Armer had obtained warrants and arrested eighty-three men charged with rioting on July 2. These included George Smith and other union leaders.36 “Preliminary hearings will be held July 19 for the 83 accused of rioting, blocking roads, damage to autos and endeavoring to inaugurate a local reign of terror and lawlessness,” the Record reported.37

The union leaders, the article continued, especially Smith, were well supplied with cash at the time of their arrest and paid the $300 required for bond. The workingmen, unlike their leaders, were unable to pay and therefore languished behind bars.

The workers are bearing the brunt of the strike while the IWW leaders are living off the fat of the land. All the men are expected to plead not guilty and ask for a trial thus putting the county to more delay and expense.38

Gradually the mines got back into production. By August 7 they were barely operating but the managers decided against rehiring the strikers, who could have speeded the process up. Officials were dispatched to Texas and New Mexico to recruit miners and their efforts met with considerable success, according to a report of the Loyalty League:

Hundreds of loyal Americans have arrived from all over the West to work while the strikers are carrying on their futile strike. This community is filled with American people who believe in loyalty and are more than satisfied with the prevailing working conditions.39

On September 25 George Smith, the union leader, came to trial.40 He was charged with rioting. The Record had declared itself on the side of the owners and managers, but Editor Hogue was under fire from union sympathizers. Before the trial began, he wrote:

Though the Arizona Record professes no friendship for Smith…we will endeavor to print the proceedings exactly as they are without bias or prejudice and without any attention to the calumnious statements that have been, and probably will be, circulated against us by those persons who, being adverse to truth and fairness, refuse to believe in the honesty of any person or publication that takes fair issue with them.41

The attorneys played to a full house each day in the justice chamber located on the top floor of the courthouse. The sessions were stormy, and the terms of the questioning, as well as the obscene language used, were considered unprintable by the newspaper. On several occasions the judge asked the ladies to leave to room. It was established that Smith had blocked cars trying to enter the grounds of the Old Dominion, that he had threatened bodily injury to Sheriff Armer and Judge Shute, that his intention was to shut off the pumps and flood the mine, and that he did indeed incite the crowd.42

His attorney argued that Smith was no rioter – that he was actually a pacifist. The argument seemed weak, however, and everybody in attendance – Sheriff Armer, Judge Shute, Editor Hogue and the civic and law-enforcement officials of Globe – were sure the verdict would be Guilty. After twenty-four hours of deliberation, however, the jury – consisting of carpenters, millmen, smeltermen and an assayer – voted for acquttal.43

“The verdict of not guilty came as a great surprise to the citizens of the community,” said the Record on the following day. “From the beginning of the trial street comment was to the effect that a hung jury was the best the defendant could expect.44 The trial and its aftermath cause such an uproar in the town that the remaining fifty men charged with rioting were tried on a change of venue in neighboring Graham County.45 Sheriff Armer arrested Smith again on October 17 and charged him with perjury but the case was later dismissed.46

Now that the blaze was under control, visiting firemen came in to help. On October 6 President Wilson’s special labor commission arrived in Globe to investigate the unrest. This was their first stop, though they planned to visit Clifton, Morenci, Bisbee and Jerome before returning to Washington.47 In charge of industrial investigation was Secretary of Labor William B. Wilson. Governor George W. P. Hunt acted as the president’s personal representative. Judge John McBride was the federal conciliator for Arizona. The men originally intended to stay only two days, but when they realized the gravity of the situation, they decided to prolong their visit as much as necessary. They promised to listen to every sector – miners, operators, union representatives, the public.48 For sixteen days representatives of these groups filed into the Dominion Hotel, where the federal mediators were headquartered, and submitted their statements.

Finally, on October 22 Wilson announced a plan whereby normal production could be resumed in the Globe-Miami district. All strikers were called upon to return to work within five days. “Every pound of copper that can be produced in necessary for the war effort,” his statement read. “Every impediment that is placed in the way of its production gives aid and comfort to the enemy. No grievances on the part of the men must be allowed to result in stoppage of production.”49

Disputes were to be worked out and grievances discussed in meetings of mine managers and employees. Committees representing the miners would exist in the working force of each company and if no agreement could be reached, arbitrators would be called in.

The mediators failed. Mine managers did not cooperate with the commission or act on its recommendations. They seemed determined to outlast the strikers and to replace them with imported workers.50 In October, according to the local papers, operations at the Old Dominion were “fast resuming their normal scale. A large number of men attracted by the high wage, $5.15 a day, have come to the camp and are already showing that they are going to make good miners.”51

It is worth noting that before the strike began, miners were paid $4.50 per day.

At the Inspiration Mine by the first week in October forty-one percent of the work force was on the job with a daily production of 4000 tons of copper “in spite of the rigid rule adopted at the mine that none but Americans and English-speaking foreigners of known loyalty to the country are being employed.” The Record reporter added: “If good miners continue to apply for work, it will not be long before former production is reestablished.”52

The Inspiration managers were much too optimistic. Although they reported nearly half a work force, their production of 4000 tons a day compared unfavorably with the daily output of 20,000 tons before the July walkout.53 The Old Dominion never fully recovered from the effects of the strike. Its glorious days of full production were over forever though it did not close down until 1931. Many repairs were neglected during July, August, and September because manpower was lacking to do the work, and there was some damage from flooding.54 The untrained Texans and the other workers hired by the company were lacking in know-how, and the professionalism of the expert Cornish and European miners was sadly missed.

By this time the period of violence and threats seemed to be over. Only one man had lost his life – a soldier on guard duty at the Miami Mine who had apparently been struck and dragged by the train. According to men in his group, the crew knew nothing of what had happened until they reached Globe and noticed blood on the wheels. Then they went back and found him. They suspected that he had sat down on the ties and gone to sleep. Another casualty occurred on the morning of October 10 when Judge John McBride, the federal conciliator for Arizona, was standing on a downtown corner talking with three officials of the electricians’ union. A saddle horse became excited and threw its rider into the street. The Record reported what followed:

The maddened animal bucked and jumped and plunged across the street to where the group of men stood conversing. Judge McBride failed to notice the horse until its hooves struck the sidewalk. His companions sprang to safety, but the official was unable to escape.

A second later the horse slipped on the pavement, running into McBride and hurling him through the display window of the Hansen Clothing Company. His right leg was sliced to the bone by the jagged glass. The electricians applied first aid and tried to stop the blood with towels and strips of canvas. Then they laid him on a stretcher improvised from two boards and rushed him to the hospital in an Army truck.

McBride never complained as the doctors sewed up the arteries and torn flesh, though they were unable to use an anesthetic on account of his weakened condition, but he knew his end was near. He asked to see Secretary of Labor William Wilson, his friend of thirty-three years, but died before the Secretary reached his bedside. Every flag in town flew at half mast to honor the first national president of the American Federation of Labor.55

Months passed. The 17th Cavalry was living in semi-permanent barracks constructed of wood and tin on top of the slag dump at the Old Dominion. The military made every effort to promote good relations and entertain the townspeople. They sponsored balls and sporting events, held mounted saber drills and staged mock battles in the park. Every Sunday night they gave a band concert on the slag dump near their quarters. It would take more than band concerts, however, to heal the wounds left by the strike. There was a bitterness among the people that had never existed before. Between the union and the mine officials, with the Loyalty League in the background, Globe was a town divided against itself. Each day miners who had been out on strike left town with their families, hopeless of being rehired by the mining companies. The cosmopolitan flavor of the down disappeared as the number of nationalities dwindled.56 League of Nations Canyon became a memory.

Governor Hunt, a former citizen and mayor, noted in 1918 that “The old pioneer spirit of Globe which made us all love it seems dead with the soldiers camped on the slag dump and numerous gunmen employed by the mines.”57

Nearly a year after their arrival, the troops finally withdrew and the town began to heal. For years, however, the wounds were still felt and the scars were still visible.

31Arizona Record, October 7, 1917 (letter from the Loyalty League signed by George R. Hill, chairman).

32Byrkit, “Life and Labor in Arizona,” pp. 347-348; Arizona Record, July 11, 1917. Byrkit points out that the last sentence did not appear in the newspaper. The day following (July 12) the Bisbee deportation was carried out.